16 Glutinous Rice Shaomai

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When Mengdong Wen first began reading the Classic of Poetry, he asked only simple questions, yet Dr. Sun patiently and thoroughly explained everything to him. The elder and the younger, sharing a plate of fried fresh milk, discussed scholarly matters for quite some time.

“Quick-witted and eager to learn, a promising pupil indeed. Keep this up, and you will achieve great things in the future,” Dr. Sun praised repeatedly.

Mengdong Wen’s face flushed shyly. “Thank you for your guidance, Doctor.”

When Dr. Sun was about to leave, Zhongxia Wen refused to take his money. To receive instruction from a Grand Scholar was worth more than countless bowls of small wontons.

“Lady Wen, no need to be so polite. Your plate of fried fresh milk is payment enough.”

The fried fresh milk was surprisingly delicious—crispy on the outside, rich with the pure milk aroma inside, sweet without being cloying. It was the first time he had ever seen fresh cow’s milk fried like that. This young lady was not only skillful but also clever.

Dr. Sun placed some coins on the table, clasped his hands behind his back, and strolled away at leisure.

The next day was another bright and sunny one. The Qingming holiday had finally ended, and as students returned, the influx of customers inevitably increased. The small wontons had to be prepared in advance in larger quantities.

Now, Xiu Xu’s speed in making wontons almost matched Zhongxia Wen’s. With a pinch and a fold, a tiny goldfish-shaped wonton was formed.

Small wontons did not aim for beauty, only that they would not fall apart when boiled.

At home, the meal could not be a simple bowl of wontons. The glutinous rice Uncle Li had sent was large, round, translucent, and glossy—of excellent quality. Soaked overnight, it was steamed in a wooden steamer in the morning.

The glutinous rice steamed over a traditional stove came out with each grain crystal clear, fragrant, sticky, and smooth, carrying a faint bamboo-wood scent from the steamer.

She recalled that when she made videos about shaomai in her past life, fans from north and south often argued whether shaomai should be purely meat or mostly glutinous rice. She always stayed neutral, saying only children make choices; adults love both.

In fact, she grew up eating glutinous rice shaomai—cooled glutinous rice mixed with fillings sautéed from dried shiitake mushrooms, pork, corn, and peas, stirred evenly.

The wrappers were ready-made, taken from the wonton skins. A dozen or so wrappers were filled with the glutinous rice mixture. Then, just pinch the wrapper and lift it up; no need to seal the top.

The steamed shaomai had a round base, a slender waist, paper-thin wrappers, shaped like tiny pomegranates. The brown glutinous rice was dotted with golden corn kernels and green peas, making it very attractive.

The shaomai was sticky and chewy, savory and fragrant, oily but not greasy.

“Delicious, delicious!” Little Dong’er was immediately captivated by the beautiful shaomai, eating three in a row, neglecting the small wontons.

Once the stall was set up, customers came in steady streams; two tables were never enough to seat them all.

However, Zhongxia Wen refrained from adding more tables for the time being, fearing that too large a crowd would draw criticism for blocking the street and disturbing the Grand Academy’s traffic.

By noon, carriages delivering lunchboxes for the students arrived one after another, though the attentive noticed fewer carriages at the academy’s gate than usual recently.

Today, Madam Yang was dressed up solemnly, standing at the academy’s entrance as wave after wave of students passed by.

“Has Chuan’er come out? He wouldn’t have just crossed over, would he?”

A maid carrying lunchboxes replied, “Madam, I’m watching closely. The young master hasn’t come out yet.”

After a short wait, Madam Yang finally saw her long-awaited eldest grandson and waved, calling out, “Chuan’er.”

Lü Tianchuan was chatting and laughing with Qin Qian and Zeng Nian. Hearing the call, he was surprised and hurried over. “Grandmother, what are you doing here?”

Madam Yang took his hand. “I came to bring you lunch.”

“Grandmother, I told you at home that I didn’t need lunch brought,” he said.

“How could that do? Your studies are hard, and you don’t like the food outside. If I don’t bring you lunch, do you want to eat in the dining hall?” Madam Yang spoke quickly. “I know the dining hall food isn’t good.”

She would not let her grandson refuse and handed over two stacked lunchboxes.

Lü Tianchuan had no choice but to accept them. His classmates bowed respectfully to his grandmother from a distance before laughing and running off.

Needless to say, they were surely headed for Lady Wen’s food stall, which was rumored to have a new small wonton dish that smelled especially enticing.

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“Quick, take it inside,” Madam Yang said, concerned. “Look at how thin you’ve gotten… Well, not really thin, but you should still eat more. The meals I brought before always had leftovers; your grandmother was worried.”

Lü Tianchuan smiled awkwardly—that was because he had been eating well at Lady Wen’s stall, unable to finish the meals at home.

“Your grandson understands. Now that the lunchboxes are delivered, grandmother, you should go back and not tire yourself.”

“All right.”

After seeing her grandson return to the courtyard, Madam Yang left with her maid. But the two did not go far; instead, they used the carriage as cover and continued to watch the entrance.

In recent days, she noticed that the meals the servant brought to her grandson were often left unfinished.

At first, she thought his appetite was poor, but after the maid’s hint, she suspected that her grandson and his classmates spent their lunch break eating and drinking outside.

Eating and drinking would be fine, but she feared her grandson might be led astray to improper places.

Though the Imperial Academy was famous throughout the land, it also housed many idle, prodigal young nobles. One who associates with the wicked becomes wicked. Madam Yang absolutely would not allow her grandson to mingle with such people.

Moments later, Lü Tianchuan’s figure appeared again at the gate.

Madam Yang almost clenched her handkerchief in frustration. Was her grandson hiding something from her?

Lü Tianchuan hurried off in another direction.

Madam Yang and the maid quickly followed, wondering what kind of brothel could be in that direction.

Hmm?

Why did her grandson stop so quickly?

Lü Tianchuan was standing in line at a small food stall, occasionally tiptoeing forward with an eager look.

Could it be that he was not going to a brothel, but simply to eat at a street food stall?

Madam Yang’s heart, which had been tight with worry, instantly relaxed. Still, she was puzzled—what kind of food stall could make her grandson so attached?

There were quite a few people gathered around the stall, but Madam Yang could only see their backs.

Soon, Lü Tianchuan carried a steaming white porcelain bowl and found a seat.

Once seated, he buried his head in the food and ate.

Unable to suppress her curiosity, Madam Yang went straight over.

Lü Tianchuan was savoring the juicy, delicious wontons when he glanced aside and nearly choked.

“Grandmother, didn’t you go home?” he said hurriedly, standing up.

Madam Yang ignored his question and instead asked, “Chuan’er, could it be that the meals at home don’t taste good, so you’ve come to eat street food?”

Lü Tianchuan’s face flushed scarlet, tinged with guilt.

His food and clothing were always provided by his grandmother. He had always been obedient, until recently when he started eating at Lady Wen’s stall as if he could never tire of it.

He had intended to try a bowl of small wontons and then go back to finish the meals at home, but unexpectedly, he was caught red-handed by his grandmother.

“Please don’t be angry. I just wanted a change of taste,” Lü Tianchuan stammered. “I will eat the meals you bring, I promise.”

Madam Yang was not truly angry; as long as her grandson was not going to brothels, all was well.

She muttered, “Are the wontons really that good?”

Lü Tianchuan highly recommended them. “Grandmother, they really are delicious.”

“Madam Yang.”

Hearing a voice, Madam Yang turned and widened her eyes. “Lady Wen, Mistress Xu, what brings you here?”

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Seeing the aprons they wore, she was extremely surprised. “Is this your food stall?”

Lü Tianchuan was confused—so Lady Wen actually knew his grandmother.

“Exactly, Madam Yang. What brings you here?” Zhongxia Wen greeted the landlady warmly.

Yang carefully examined the two women and the little one with them. “Weren’t you selling popcorn?”

“We stopped a while ago,” Zhongxia Wen briefly explained.

Yang clicked her tongue inwardly. She had only thought this young lady had some small skills, but never imagined she would dare open a food stall right at the academy’s gate. Such boldness was impressive.

Compared to their last meeting, the three—two women and the child—were noticeably plumper, their complexions rosy and spirits high. Their business must be doing well.

“You look so young, yet you already have such a big grandson,” Zhongxia Wen said, not as flattery but sincerely. She thought Yang looked only about fifty.

Yang took the compliment well, attributing it to having children early and her son marrying early.

Zhongxia Wen immediately offered to let her try her cooking, and Yang, after some thought, did not refuse.

Lü Tianchuan quickly made room for his grandmother, secretly pleased. Since Lady Wen was their tenant, he would no longer need to hide when eating here.

The students at the same table were his classmates, all young, and Yang felt no awkwardness, sitting down gracefully.

Only after tasting the meat-stuffed flatbread and fresh meat small wontons did she understand why her grandson was so fond of this place.

Though she had already eaten lunch, she could not help but take bite after bite.

Lü Tianchuan leaned closer and said, “Grandmother, the green rice dumplings I brought home the other day were also made by Lady Wen.”

“Oh?” Yang still remembered the soft, sweet red bean green rice dumplings, having thought they were bought from some pastry shop.

Observing the crowd at the stall—many but orderly—Yang calculated the turnover and admired Lady Wen even more.

At this rate, her little courtyard might soon be too small to contain them all.

Before leaving, Zhongxia Wen packed a few more meat-stuffed flatbreads and hand-grabbed pancakes for the landlady. After some refusals, Yang happily accepted.

Lü Tianchuan had just finished a bowl of wonton soup and was craving the aroma of braised meat.

“Not full yet?” Yang clutched the oiled paper packet, looking wary. “These I’m taking home for your grandfather and parents to try.”

Lü Tianchuan: …

Yang sternly reminded him, “You must finish the meals I bring. No leftovers, or I won’t accept it.”

“Yes, Grandmother.”

Lü Tianchuan felt suddenly less treasured as the eldest grandson.

…

These days, Zhongxia Wen ordered dozens of pounds of pork daily from the butcher. The butcher loved such steady, big customers and always reserved the best for her.

Just recently, she asked in advance for a set of offal, and the butcher had set it aside for her.

Xiu Xu’s expression was hard to read. It was one thing for her little sister-in-law to eat pig’s trotters, but how could she even treat pig intestines as a treasure?

The smell was too strong. Little Dong tightly pinched his nose, unwilling to get close to his dear sister.

Zhongxia Wen chuckled, “Once prepared, this is even more fragrant than the meat.”

Xiu Xu’s only reaction was: I don’t believe it.